


backstage passport

by Vulpix



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 06:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4596441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpix/pseuds/Vulpix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete was insufferably bored. And Patrick, he wasn’t making it any fucking easier.</p><p>(or Pete's bored and horny and Patrick thinks its a bad idea.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	backstage passport

**Author's Note:**

> all you need to know is that this is based off [this tumblr post. ](http://asoulpunk.tumblr.com/post/126634634665/caffeinegold-if-this-picture-doesnt-scream-you)

Pete was insufferably bored. That was the shitty thing about being a musician. The performing was blissful, and as someone who loved the attention, interviews stroked his ego just enough to keep him focused for anywhere from five to thirty minutes. It was all the in between, the traveling, the standing, just _waiting._

It was enough to drive him insane sometimes.

And Patrick, he wasn’t making it any fucking easier. Patrick seemed to be completely oblivious to himself. The way he bit his bottom lip, worrying it while he played his acoustic back stage. The way his fingers flicked against the guitar’s strings, fucking crafted by God himself. Shit, the soft croon of his voice, forget being just bored, he was bored and ridiculously turned on by his vocalist and boyfriend.

If he thought the boredom was going to send him off the deep end, Patrick’s complete and utter lack of focus on Pete, even if just for a moment, already did.

He licked his lips slowly, and suddenly two eyes glanced up ant met his own gaze. He didn’t completely realize he was staring before Patrick simply raised a brow.

“You need anything Pete?”

There were quite a few answers to that. He needed him spread out on the couch right there, maybe, or his hands gripping the edge of that table whilst staring in that fucking massive mirror, or maybe-

“Pete!” Patrick snapped, a frown appearing on his face.

Pete blinked a few times, grinning sheepishly. Realization splashed over Patrick’s face.

“You’re fucking turned on, aren’t you.” It wasn’t even a question. Patrick knew his boyfriend well enough to know what that face meant, or to finally put two and two together and get that the intense staring meant more than just getting lost in his thoughts.

Pete shrugged a little, his voice airing on the faux innocent side, “Maybe.” He got up, and felt like a predator stalking his prey.

It wasn’t that Patrick was a prude. No, Pete learned that quickly when their relationship finally reached physical. He knew it before, but there’s a difference between hearing your best friend talking about sex and watching your best friend- and boyfriend- riding your dick. Call him crazy.

But Patrick had a strict policy of “not in public” while Pete seemed to have a constant string of “wherever whenever however” in his brain. They were wired completely opposite in that regard, and more often than not, Pete tucked his tail between his legs and gave in. He was completely whipped. But not now, not today. “I was just enjoying your guitar playing, is all.”

Patrick rolled his eyes overdramatically, and set his guitar down. While that wasn’t him giving in yet, it was progress. If he wasn’t debating it, he would have just flipped Pete off and continued playing. He suppressed the grin that threatened to take over his features.

“You’re totally turned on and I’m not helping you out, Pete, so please, let’s not do this right now.” The words went in one ear and slipped out the other. He knew how Patrick worked.

Pete frowned sadly, but his words were sly, “You won’t help me? Damn, Pattycakes.” He couldn’t suppress the grin that was taking over his face. “Guess I’ll have to do it myself.”

Pete’s hand moved down, rubbing over his crotch, then grabbing his dick through his shorts. His head tilted back and his mouth fell open in a silent moan. If it was a show he wanted, a show he’d get.

Patrick was completely silent. Usually he was mouthy when it came to protest, so Pete mentally chalked another point for him.

Pete’s free hand moved up and ran through his own hair, resting there for a moment as he partially pulled down the hem of his pants. His hand slipped into his underwear. His eye only peaked open, just needing to see what Patrick’s response was.

He was completely eating him up. The roles had reversed. Now Patrick was left staring intently as his pants got a little tighter, his expression a bit darker than before. The only difference was the fact that Pete was spread out on a god damn silver platter, patiently wearing him down. He waited another moment, making sure Patrick was looking him in the eye, then let out a strangled sounding whine.

“ _Patrick_ …”

Almost immediately, Patrick shot up, shoving Pete against the wall, pressing flush against him. “You’re such a fucking tease, Pete,” He grumbled, mouth finding Pete’s quickly, biting rather hard at his bottom lip. Payback. Pete’s hand shoved into Patrick’s hair, his fedora falling to the ground, forgotten as Pete’s teeth grazed against Patrick’s lip.

Patrick’s mouth, now red from biting and kissing, moved to Pete’s neck, leaving heat across his throat, mumbling through kisses, “You’re so fucked up. We’re backstage. There are dozens of people milling around. And you want to fuck now.”

His hips ground into Pete’s, and he had become putty in Patrick’s hands. There were two guilty pleasures of Pete. Public sex, and angry or annoyed Patrick. Evidently it was his lucky day, because he was getting both.

Patrick’s voice was low, graveled in the most perfect way, “Why should we even, Pete? It’s like you can’t even control yourself on stage at this point.” His thumb reached up and brushed over Pete’s bottom lip. He pushed his thumb into Pete’s mouth, and ended up placing a hand on his shoulder, pushing him to his knees. “You’re going to help me out, and then wait until the hotel room tonight. Understood?”

Pete was buzzing. Patrick was hardly this dominant, usually. They switched a lot, sure, but Patrick was commanding this like it was a piece of fucking music, not Pete mouthing him through his jeans.

“Hey Pa- _Oh!_ ”

In under a minute Patrick was across the room, face turned away, expression a mixture of embarrassment and agitation. Pete looked up to see a mortified Joe and humored Andy glancing between the both of them.

“This is the _GREEN ROOM_.” Joe sounded completely horrified.

Pete shrugged, getting up off his knees. “Your point?” He glanced over at Patrick who was still trying to figure out if this was funny or absolutely fucking scarring.

“How many times have you guys messed around in our green rooms!? I thought, oh my god, do you guys mess around on your bus? Like on the couch?” He looked disgusted. “I _sit_ on that couch.”

Patrick decided then that this was fucking hilarious, and started laughing, Pete and Andy joining him.

“Oh come on, Joe, as if you didn’t mess around in some questionable and public places,” Andy said with an eye roll, chuckles still bubbling out of his chest.

“Yeah, well, these are my two best friends, okay?! I don’t need that.” Joe ran a hand through his hair, then looked up at Patrick, “I’d think you would know better than this.”

Patrick shrugged. “Blame Pete, it was his idea.”

“Thanks Pete!”

_“Fuck you!”_


End file.
